I've got that … disease furniture deplores—
my chest is falling into my drawers.
My knobs swirl 'round as if they're too loose.
I've got this bumpy feeling in my caboose.
Oh, and the juice …
drips … what's the use?
Doc said … to cheer me … polish clears smears, clogs—
partner (thinking Polish) filled me with dogs!
I've knot holes where there was not holes before
and, just when I feel better, I find more.
I'm dry, scarred, sore.
I've got that … can't go, I'm too full, disease.
Medicine gave me the runs … dare not sneeze.
Puttied cracks, wrinkles, rearranged my rack …
if I ' blow' will it go out my rear, back?
I'm a wall nut
dresser, a runt!
Doc said … disappointed … I'd sprung a spring,
needed new seals, perhaps spruced with a ring.
Sometimes I bloat up and nothing works right,
learned lubrication keeps it oiled all night.
furnishings … see!
I've got that … weathered, burnished, antique look,
peer in my hutch there's a nest in its' nook.
Damaged by sun, I have long been ignored.
When I was appraised, my partner was floored.
I'm not bluffing …
just needed buffing.
Doc said … do I hear a bid for this piece?
Now I'm going around the world … off to Greece!